


you can hold my hand (if no one's home)

by SarcasticSargassum



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Empath, Episode: s03e01-02 Juno Steel and the Man in Glass, Feelings Realization, Fluff, M/M, Other, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28828305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarcasticSargassum/pseuds/SarcasticSargassum
Summary: Nureyev keeps his hands at his sides, purposefully not touching Juno. He tells himself that he is still acting, that the Monsieur Dauphin in love with Zolotovna wouldn’t deign to loop arms with his wife after professing his feelings for another woman, but in truth, some part of him is… frankly, terrified at what might happen if he did.AKA the AU where Juno has empath abilities activated by physical contact, meaning Nureyev might finally have to face his emotions For Once.Title from Line Without A Hook by Ricky Montgomery, because- i mean it's a jupeter fic what else did you expect
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 9
Kudos: 93





	you can hold my hand (if no one's home)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hopeless_eccentric](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_eccentric/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hazy Cosmic Jive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28825506) by [hopeless_eccentric](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_eccentric/pseuds/hopeless_eccentric). 



> HI HI HI so. this fic is meant 2 be another moment in hopeless_eccentric's empath alien!Juno AU, so I'd recommend reading their fic first for context and also just because it's SO baller go read it read it NOW

Nureyev pulls away from Nova Zolotovna a frankly ridiculous amount of creds richer, swearing his eternal love to a woman he dearly hopes  _ never _ to see again. Juno catches up to him at the doorway, still glittering in the flickers of light that illuminate him like a shining sun. He’s so beautiful Nureyev’s heart hurts to look at him- and even as bone-deep instinct rushes to file that feeling away, he snatches the warmth from its grasp and lets it glow soft and sweet for a moment. The future is well and good, but there is something to be said for a glimmering present with Juno Steel.

“What the hell was that?”

“No questions. Just start walking.”

“But-”

“Quickly.” Nureyev keeps his hands at his sides, purposefully not touching Juno. He tells himself that he is still acting, that the Monsieur Dauphin in love with Zolotovna wouldn’t deign to loop arms with his wife after professing his feelings for another woman, but in truth, some part of him is… frankly, terrified at what might happen if he did. 

He remembers a night in a Hyperion hotel room, shuddering neon illuminating Juno’s face in technicolor limelight, skin pressed against skin so completely and desperately that he could feel _everything;_ he remembers how he’d filed away the reluctance and guilt and self-hatred flowing into him as readily as if they were his own emotions, trying to feel without feeling and being left empty anyways.

Buddy dressed Juno appropriately given his abilities, a gown with an intimidating diameter and gloves long enough to stop any unwanted physical contact, but there’s something inside Nureyev that childishly believes that won’t matter. Juno could brush arms with him at any moment, and then- 

Then what? Nureyev isn’t even sure  _ what _ he fears, a dozen different possibilities all vying to be his foremost anxiety. Maybe Juno hasn’t changed as much as he claims he has- not that Nureyev was listening at the time- and the second he knows how Peter Nureyev is allowing himself to feel, he’ll pull away. Maybe the only thing he’s gotten better at over the year they were separated was lying, and all his words of development and growth have just been pretty coverups for a core of dark, hollow loathing. Or maybe… maybe he’s telling the truth, and he really is ready to try again- and this time Nureyev will be left grasping for the upper hand, always unmasked in front of Juno Steel and never quite what the lady deserves. 

He’s not sure what scares him most.

Soft muttering draws him out of his spiral, and he comes to just in time to hear Juno grumbling. “-I mean, the amount of people I saw drunk off their minds back there- someone could’ve gotten hurt! Seriously, did she not think about that at all?”

“About what, Madame?” Juno rolls his eyes, holding up the arm on the side farther from Nureyev. 

An arm that is definitely bare.

Nureyev’s blood goes cold.

“Stupid flower arrangements had Martian thornweed in 'em. One of the branches snagged my glove as I was twirling by it, and by the time I realized, I had the Globe in my dress and I couldn’t stick around and tug it free.” He sighs, oblivious to the way Nureyev’s heartbeat has just doubled its pace. “Whatever. Not like it matters, just- god, really?”

The music changing behind them manages to remind Nureyev that they are still on a mission, and that  _ they need to focus _ . First rule of thieving- the most important part of every heist is the exit, and they are  _ so close _ now that any hitches in the plan could have disastrous consequences. 

So, of course, the plan hitches magnificently.

“Mr. Dauphin! Wait!” Zolotovna calls over the crowd, then calls again when Nureyev purposefully does not turn around. “I can't take another moment of this secrecy! Our enemies be damned, I... I  _ love _ you!” A microphone screech, then- “I said I  _ love _ you! And I don't care if your wife knows it!”

Juno turns to him, wide-eyed with a combination of confusion and suppressed laughter written on his face clear as day. “She... looks like she's waiting for something.”

“She's waiting for you to kill me, likely so that she can pull a deathbed confession of true love from me- and given that neither is going to happen, I recommend we turn our walk into a run.” Nureyev fixes his eyes straight ahead and crosses his fingers that perhaps Zolotovna will conclude Monsieur Dauphin was hard of hearing all along. He is nothing if not an optimist, or at the very least is excellent at pretending to be one- maybe this escape can still be salvaged.

Then a doorman cries out that the Globe is gone, and all contemplations of optimism are thrown to the wind as they both break into a dead sprint.

Juno kicks off his heels less than ten steps in, calling a colorful goodbye to them as he pulls ahead of Nureyev. There’s a commotion behind them, but none of the guards with functioning blasters are close enough to be considered risks, and so it’s merely a matter of getting down the path before Zolotovna starts to chase after them herself. The wind whips through his hair, the recycled air of the satellite feeling for once  _ alive _ , because the spark of emotion Juno has kindled in his chest has all at once made the whole world feel a shade brighter. 

A laugh bubbles from his chest at that, then another- he hears Juno crack up as well, and before long the two of them are giggling like teenagers as they near the end of the path. Juno reaches back with the hand not clutching his skirts, and naturally, easily as breathing, Nureyev takes it.

The next few seconds happen in isolated sensations- the pressure of Juno’s palm against his, the last laugh fading in his chest as realization hits him, and then a rush of emotion so powerful he couldn’t begin to name it if he tried. It’s frustrated and panicked, yes- breathless for a thousand different reasons, first and foremost being adrenaline. But under that, Juno feels warm and bright, not the flickering light of a candle but the steady, unyielding color of neon, and so unmistakably  _ fond _ it takes his breath away. 

He knows Juno feels the responding bloom of hope in his chest when he stumbles, stutters in his tracks- but when he looks back, Nureyev makes sure to meet that delicate, uncertain smile with his own. Not Monsieur Dauphin’s, not Rex’s or Duke’s or any of the other aliases that clamor to rise over his face and woo or reject Juno in his stead- but Peter Nureyev’s, a smile that has only ever come out for two people. It’s a little crooked, and his fangs peep over his bottom lip, and it is the truest thing he has shown Juno all night.

And from the way he pauses, then grins back twice as brilliant, Nureyev knows Juno understands. 

**Author's Note:**

> this fic brings the Sargassum Speedran A Fic Concept They Liked And Posted It Instead Of The Other Fics They've Been Working On For Months Counter to *checks notes* 3, i think. i banged this whole thing out in under an hour, which i didn't even realize i was capable of- a good concept (and a compulsive instinct to ignore all my other WIPs and write a whole new thing) just brought it out in me, i guess. 
> 
> thank you for reading, feel free to check out the other fics on my account if you liked this one!! have a wonderful day/night/whenever you read this <3


End file.
